Heart of Plastic
by Arlene
Summary: Black Canary and Plastic Man spend an evening together


Disclaimer: DC owns them, not mine, never will be. No money was made from this piece of fiction.

Heart of Plastic

By Arlene

Dinah Lance stepped in front of the full-length mirror. She admitted to herself that she looked simply stunning. The dress, the hair, the subtle make-up . . . Ollie was just going to drop dead at the sight of her. After dinner and dancing, of course.

As she walked out into the opulent sitting room of the Queen apartment, Roy caught a glance of her and froze, his jaw dropping. "Holy--! Dinah--you're--wow!" Instead of fumbling with words to express his appreciation, he settled for a wolf whistle.

Dinah laughed. "Oh, Roy, you silver-tongued devil! You do say the nicest things." She bent to kiss him on the forehead. "Done with homework yet?"

Roy blushed at the affectionate peck, his red face almost matching the color of his hair. "Yeah. I'm, uh, gonna take a shower now." 'A cold one,' he thought to himself. "See yuh." He jogged towards his room.

She sighed as she watched him go. The lanky teen was going to be a heartbreaker one day. Picking up a magazine, she settled in a divan and waited for her date.

After waiting an hour, she got up and stretched. Okay, so he wouldn't be on time. Sidetracked by some sort of emergency perhaps? She could understand that. She went to Roy's door and knocked. "Roy? Time for bed, hon." 

There was a muffled response. 

"No, Ollie's not home yet. Probably a Green Arrow thing." 

This time, a muffled inquiry. 

"No more TV, Roy! School night! Sleep!" 

A muffled groan. 

"Good night, Roy!" 

No reply.

She bent down as far as her dress allowed and checked under the door. The light was still on. "Don't make me come in there, young man!" The light clicked off. She smiled, satisfied. "Good night, sweetie!" she sang out loud and off-key.

"G'nite, Dinah!" yelled the boy, resigned to his fate. Sheesh, adults.

Chuckling, Dinah went back to the sitting room. When she checked the clock again, she called the restaurant to change the reservation time. It was still early enough to go dancing afterwards.

After channel surfing for another hour, she cancelled the reservations. She went to the kitchen, brought out an empty garbage can and set down in the entryway. Then she went to her room and changed.

When a drunk Oliver Queen stumbled into his home half an hour later, Black Canary met him at the door. "H-Hiya, purdy birdy! Hey, that rhymes! You shtill, shtill, I mean, ssstill waiting up fer me? Thas so s-sweet!" For some odd reason, his tongue wouldn't cooperate with him.

Black Canary only uttered one word: "Anniversary."

Ollie blinked at her innocently. "Really? Whose?"

Dinah calmly picked up the wastebasket and placed it in his hands so that he was holding it close to his chin. Then she punched him in his gut.

As the man was retching into the container, she picked up her gym bag and left. She needed to go work off some tension.

***

He was bored. Plastic Man swung himself side to side in his chair. Finally, he pushed and lifted his feet off the floor, letting the momentum carry him through a few revolutions before slowing down in front of the computer screen. Woo hoo. Oh what fun. Bored again. Monitor duty was just so, well, boring.

Suddenly, he noticed something on the consul. Someone transporting in. Finally, he thought, a playmate! He heard steps approaching the monitor room and relaxed a little. Definitely not Batman. Ah, Black Canary in all of her fish-netted glory!

"Hey, baby! Where ya been all my life?"

Black Canary marched by. "Can it, Plas," she growled.

Ouch! She was a bit grouchy tonight. Best not to prod her too much. He'd catch up to her later, when she was feeling more . . . not grouchy. Ookay, back to being bored now. 

Wait, maybe he should track her through the station. After all, he didn't want her to, uh, trip or, uh, get a run in her stockings or anything. Using the interior cameras, he watched as she went into a workout room, dropped her bag and attacked a punching bag. Boredom alleviated now that he actually *had* something to monitor, he sat back and enjoyed the show.

He admired her grace and the flow of her body as she landed each blow. She was beautiful even when angry. Then, he noticed a pattern. She kept dropping her hits to one certain spot, definitely below the belt, probably around the crotch of an average-sized man. Ah, he understood now. Ollie. He winced in sympathy as her fists and feet made contact with the area. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he turned off the camera and let her have her privacy. Now was definitely not a good time to prod.

***

Staring sullenly at the screen, Plastic Man noticed another light on the consul. Freedom! Hardly had he finished the thought when he felt a slight change in air pressure. He spun around.

"Yes! Barry, ma man! Put'er there!" He held out his hand and just before the Flash could grasp it, he pulled away. "Ha! Too slow!"

Barry Allen just grinned and shook his head. "Make a log entry and leave before I change my mind and go home, Stretch." He looked thoughtful. "In fact, I can actually *go* home *while* you're doing that . . . "

"Whoa there, Red! Just kiddin' 'bout the too slow thing. Hold it a sec." He turned back to the keyboard, typed and turned back, literally bouncing out of the chair. "All yours."

"Thanks, Plas." They shook hands for real. "Good night."

"G'nite, Red. Say 'hi' to the kid for me." Parting with a wave, Plastic Man went out see if his guest had cooled down yet. 

Just to be on the safe side, he knocked before entering. "Canaaaary? Yoo-hoo! How you doin', kid?"

"Hi, Plas," she grinned from a bench. Looking a bit embarrassed, she wiped her face with a towel. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier."

"No problemo, BC. Flasher just relieved me. Wanna catch something to eat?"

Oh yeah. The dinner that never was. "Sounds good, I'm starved. Just let me clean up, and I'll meet you by the transporter in a few minutes."

"Few minutes? Y'mean a few minutes as in less than ten or as in, 'This-outfit-no-this-outfit-maybe-I-need-to-accessorize-do-I-look-fat' few minutes?"

She snapped her towel at him. At the cracking noise, Plastic Man yelped, turned into a ball and bounced all over the room, causing her to double over laughing. 

"Wise guy! You're buying!" She ran into the locker room before he could respond. "And a few minutes as in 'Whenever-I'm-darned-good-and-ready' few minutes!" she shouted out.

Plastic Man changed back and left the room. He had the perfect place.

***

Exactly twelve and a half minutes later according to Plastic Man's watch, Dinah emerged in a sweatshirt and jeans, her hair up in a simple ponytail. 

"Wow, BC, you look like the girl next door. Too bad you're not next door to me." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She smiled at him and gestured at the trenchcoat he wore. "What about you? We've already got a Flash. We don't need a Flasher."

He matched her smile. "Good one. No, I'm usually in an' out, so I don't need to change." He shrugged. "It's quicker."

"And about this place you're taking me to? You're sure it's still open?"

He spoke as he punched in coordinates. "Yup. Reserved us a spot. Small, quiet, real down-home cooking. Called 'Mi Casa.'"

"Sounds cozy."

"It is. Let's go." They left in a flash of light.

***

"Um, Plas?"

"Yes?" Like a gentleman, he opened the door for her.

"This is an apartment."

"You bet it is."

"But you said . . . oh, you said what you said. Well, you've got a nice place here."

"Eh," he took off his coat and hung it in his closet. "Not much, but I call it home." He headed towards another door off to the side. "Take a load off while I get into something more comfortable," he leered at her before he disappeared into what probably was his bedroom. "Drinks're in the fridge. Go ahead and help yerself!" Dinah settled for a bottle of water and looked around.

He emerged shortly dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, looking very un-Plastic Man-like. He noticed her stare and smiled. "Trust me, it's the suit and goggles. Gets'em everytime."

"Sure does. Good grief, you actually have eyes!"

Chuckling, he held out his hand and clasped hers. "Nice to meet you, miss. My name's Eel O'Brien." He kissed her hand. "What's a place like this doing around a girl like you?"

She snorted. "That's just what I was wondering."

He smacked his head. "Oh yeah! Some idiot superhero promised you meal, didn't he? Well, then, let's get started." Still holding her hand, he led her into the kitchenette and opened his refrigerator. "All righty then! Let's see . . . we've got, hm, chicken, veggies, a little bit of, ew! Fuzzy green stuff!" He took out the mysterious object and stretching, dropped it into the garbage can, which was four feet away. 

"Can I have my hand back now?"

"Nope, fair lady, you're helping me."

"I can't cook."

"Well, you're good with weapons, so you can chop." He released her, and with his head still in the refrigerator, his arm stretched out, opened a drawer and drew out a chef's knife. "Catch, Dinah." He carelessly flung it in her direction. She caught it easily by the handle. Placing it on the counter, she also caught everything else he threw. 

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to be the host?" she laughed as she snatched a bulb of garlic sailing through the air.

Finally closing the door, he replied, "Well, *somebody* said that I was buying. I bought all of this stuff. So there." He stuck out his tongue at her, then held up a bag of dried pasta. "Now, you want it all at once or one by one?"

***

The couple leaned back in their chairs sipping wine and listening to soft music playing in the background.

"I can't believe I ate so much, Eel. I can't move."

"Don't sweat it, kid." As he spoke, his arms cleared the table while the rest of him remained in his seat. "I'll wash later."

"How did you learn to cook like that?"

"Family recipe. It was passed onto me. Here." He reached out, grabbed something off his bookshelf and offered it to her.

"The Joy of Cooking," she read. "Family recipe, huh?"

"Yep. It's gotta be from someone's family. The cashier passed it onto me when I bought it."

She groaned at his joke, but continued smiling. "I can't believe you're for real."

"Wonder Woman can't believe it either." He leaned forward and whispered, "She wants me, you know." She had to laugh at that.

"C'mon, Dinah, let's move over to the sofa."

They settled down on the short piece of furniture, each taking up one end and facing the other. Eel became serious for a moment. "Look, I know it's not my place to pry, but are you okay? You seemed really upset earlier."

She heaved a sigh. "Our anniversary. He forgot."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Why?" she said wryly. "It's not your fault. It's just, sometimes, he such a, oh, I don't know!"

"If you wanna wait, I'm sure I've got a thesaurus somewhere." 

That earned him a small quirk of her lips. "Oh, I don't think they've got a word for him in there."

"How about 'sphincter'?" He moved quickly to catch her wineglass before her laughter knocked her off the couch. While she rolled around on the floor, he got up and washed the dishes. He liked listening to her.

***

He returned to his place on the couch and nudged at Dinah with his foot. "Hey, down there. You gonna move, or are you gonna start paying part of my rent?"

"Gimme a minute," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She took his offered hand and pulled herself back to her seat. "If you ever stop playing hard to get, Diana will be one happy woman."

"Nah, I like her mom better. You ever seen her? She's hot!"

She rolled her eyes and took a sip from her glass. "Can I ask you a personal question? Seriously?"

"Shoot."

"Well, you're a great guy, funny and intelligent, so why do you, well . . . " 

"I'm not gay."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I wasn't going to ask you that."

"Oh, uh, sorry." He blushed. "It's just that I get that a lot. Y'know, the whole spandex thing." He cleared his throat. "Sorry 'bout that. You were saying?"

She continued. "Why do you keep provoking everybody at the meetings?"

"Uh, first of all, thanks for the compliment. 

"Ever notice how Supes clenches his jaws during those things, but he's more relaxed when you talk to him personally? Or how Arthur pulls at the fingertips of his gloves when he thinks no one is watching? Or how Bats . . . bad example. He's probably like that all the time. He's so anal retentive, he'll implode one day. 

"Anyways, I do that because everyone is all serious and tense at those meetings. They need an outlet. I'm the comic relief. I draw their fire by saying some stupid remark, they lock me in their sights, shoot me down and they all feel better. If you think back, things actually go smoother when I make a crack. I gotta watch out for Batman, though. He can probably glare me into a puddle of goo." He shuddered.

Dinah looked at him flabbergasted. "You're amazing, Eel."

"Heh. Thanks. I saw a replay of a meeting I missed. They actually started sniping at each other."

She winced. "I remember that."

"So, it's basically a bit of observation and common sense. Maybe I should changed my name to Whipping Boy." He expanded his chest and put his hands on his hips. Deepening his voice, he went on. "Oh no! Aquaman and Superman are arguing about caviar! This looks like a job for Whipping Boy!"

"But the others think that's the way you really are; that you're some kinda idiot."

He dropped his pose. "No, they don't. If they did, I wouldn't be there, regardless of what I could do. They respect me, but in their own little ways. Y'know, Wondy actually winked at me once? Hubba hubba!"

Dinah sat back and shook her head. "And to think, I thought you were just another pretty face."

"Eh, 'snothing. It's what I do. Now, my dear!" He peered at her. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am. And about Ollie, too. He's a great guy, he really is. But sometimes he just doesn't think. But I . . . I love him. And he loves me."

"Good. He can be a jerk, but if you're sure, then that's that. He's lucky to have you.

"But listen up," he gently picked up her hand, "If you ever, and I mean *ever*, need to talk, eat, yell, chop veggies, you call me, you hear? You ever need an anatomically correct punching bag, I'm your guy." She nodded, overwhelmed by his friendship. "Good. It's time to go home now, kid. Ollie's probably worried."

***

"Well, this is me." They stopped in front of her door. "Thanks, Eel, and I really mean that."

"Aw, shucks. 'Tweren't nuthin', ma'am. Take care of yourself now." They hugged briefly. He waited for her to enter the apartment before he left.

Stepping in, she dropped her gym bag and went into the bedroom. She sat down next to the sprawled figure and stroked his tousled head.

"Dinah?" Ollie groaned. "Izzat you, babe? I'm sorry. I totally forgot." A well-muscled arm weakly encircled her waist. "I just wasn't thinking."

"I know, Ollie, I know," she whispered. "But what you did wasn't fair to me. You've got to make it up."

"I will, babe, I swear I will."

"And lay off the drinking. It's not good for you or your reflexes."

"You've got it. Anything for you. I love you, Dinah."

"I know." Lying next to him on the bed, she moved her hand to cover his heart and kissed his cheek. "I love you, too, Ollie." She tucked her head under his chin and let his heartbeat lull to her sleep.

End


End file.
